Long Ninety four Poems
Long Ninety four Poems. Below are the most popular long Ninety four by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ninety four poems by poem length and keyword.
A gem there is, that’s nestling inside me
(my husband claims I’m talking utter rot):
I tell him that I’m certain that I’ve got
homunculi who really want to ride me.
He knows the satisfaction he’s denied me:
(since nineteen ninety-four, delivered squat).
But men have egos, have to show as ‘hot’,
and I’ve allowed this utter fraud to guide me.
“De minimis,” they say, “non curat lex”.
‘The law does not extend to trivial things’.
But I’m aware that love is borne on wings:
as John Wayne said, we’re better Tex than Mex.
We women have our crystals, men their pecs,
but they have no monopoly on flings.
Where will tomorrow take us
Only God alone can tell
A brighter future a cloudless day
Or an earthly living Hell
How much of its our doing
How much is down to me
Is the fate laid out before us
A future meant to be
I know I've tempted fate before
At least a time or two
Risked life and limb and maybe more
I'd risk it all anew
Cos life for me's a wonderland
A journey to behold
A beautiful utopia
For the young and for the old
Til man exacts his dominance
Over everything he can
And mortgages each single soul
Of every living man
A banking led dystopia
Indebtedness their aim
We're caught here in the crossfire
In a costly Rotschild game
The year is sixteen ninety four
And a deal is on the cards
The notes are shilling loudly
From the moneylenders bards
Twelve hundred thousand reasons
Mortgage woman, man and child
The deal's been done, the trap's been sprung
The laughing Joker's wild
The Devil dealt a crooked hand
The rules weren't Heaven sent
The loans they pays a kingly ransome
The bets at eight percent
Inflationary stirms prevail
Nations drowningbin the flood
The odds now stacked in favour
Of a deal they signed in blood
Now money's just a token
The game is truly up
Their sleight of hand's been deftly played
They fill their debtors cup
Human lives collateral
As the game stacks in their favour
No money's needed anymore
The game is theirs to savour
Where will tomorrow take us
Only God alone can tell
The Devil deals in dying folks
His deals a living Hell
The game's a crooked one we know
It's plain for all to see
And the fate laid out before us
Is down to you and me
Into my future, If I get a sudden chance to peep
I'd choose my ninety-fourth birthday hoping am still alive
My mother left us at that ripe age while still in good health
not live long, but I'd be happy to witness the scene live
It is not my desire to be a freaky immortal
From ninety-four, it's Test Cricket, just singles with my bat
I wish to see what things would be on that momentous day
And to score a grand century is what I'm aiming at
I need to be ethereally there cutting the cake
With my wife, those who matter, egging me for an encore
All of us encouraging and back-patting each other
It's what I want to see in future, and what years I score
My ninety-fourth birthday event is what I want to see
But I also know that life is cruel and a known tease
We can never know when and where our breath will be snuffed out
When we shall dance, sing and when our life will come to a cease
With a fresh cup of coffee, I stepped outside to have a peek.
It was another peaceful morning, in the valley around Soup Creek.
I caught the glint of a Winchester, a model ninety-four.
It was across the lap of Jenna, just outside the saloon door.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Jan sneaking to the loo.
I could hear her spurs were jingling as she went to take a poo.
In the saloon I heard some laughter, it was Milt just having fun.
At a table dealing stud, a gamblers game is never done.
At the other end of the street, there stood Tania with watchful eyes.
With a pistol on each hip, she was ready for any surprise.
Down by the livery stable was a Texas ranger by the name of Dave.
He was looking for our mayor, who he thought was digging a grave.
There was a rumor of riders coming, and the Creek might be in a bind.
He searched both high and low, but sir Tom he could not find.
Ten miles south of town, with graves dug all around.
Tom had stopped these riders and saved our hallowed ground.
Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
8/21/22
The skillet hung near the old wood-burning kitchen stove.
Aside from her family, Mom considered it a special trove.
With that blackened old pan she prepared delicious repasts,
That in my judicious opinion will ne'er be surpassed!
Ah, just to recall the tasty grub stewed up in that old skillet!
How it tingled my taste buds just sliding down my gullet!
The chicken, steaks and chops in that old pan she did fry,
Evoked oohs and aahs and many a contented sigh!
She liberally dolloped lard in the pan 'til she had it just right,
Then concocted stews, soups and fried taters for our delight!
Mom was never concerned about such things as saturated fat,
Or life-threatening cholesterol and such things as that!
I suppose medicos today would have a conniption fit,
If they knew of the dietary sins my Mom did commit.
She must've done something right - her spouse lived past ninety-four.
Her kids outlived the odds, each reaching four score years or more!
Self-anointed wizards deem cast iron skillets detrimental to our health,
But I think they're just peddling new fads to add to their wealth!
My dear spouse uses her old iron skillet most every day.
I feel fit as a banjo regardless of what so-called experts may say!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Sung to the melody of when I’m 64 by The Beatles
Gotta keep working an extra few years
(Not like years ago)
Governments are screwing us for every dime
I can’t afford a bottle of wine
Hip's been replaced
Yes I’m getting old
I’m too old to twerk
But I’m so needy
and my pension won’t feed me
But I’m ninety four!
Written after being inspired by ‘Stupid People’ poem by SillyBilly theKidster
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/stupid_people_900910
05~16~17
Now That I'm 64 by SillyBilly the Kidster
I gotta keep working an extra few years,
not like years before.
Government is screwing me for every dime,
I can’t afford a bottle of wine.
Hip's been replaced,
yes I’m getting old.
I Can't Work Any More,
but I'm still needy,
social security won't feed me,
now that I'm 64.
05~17~17
T h e S a l e
Near the end of a lonely road
A home where an old man did reside
Traffic parked all around the house
Contents "For Sale", - the sign implied
"He'd lived there as long as he could, -
Ninety four years", I heard someone say
Immediate family, now passed on
At last, now he has moved away
For decades, this had been his home
How sad, he had to go
Feeble hands, prevented tasks
And steps were getting slow
Furniture, battered, worn and aged
Old radios, fans, and silverware
Used garden tools, and books galore
Some ordinary, but others rare
So many items, inside and out
In their time, each held their place
Now little more than a cast-a-way
His new address, had little space
I'm sure within his memory bank
Many younger days he recalled
A telephone, - - the first TV,
Or when a furnace, was installed
Only a few items, now adorn
The place he now abides
A bed, a chair,and one small table
A few special pictures, are his pride
There to live out his final days
Lonely hours, seem to have no end
A highlight that would mean the most,
Is a visit from family, - or a friend
Colan L Hiatt = 09-24-13
© All Rights Reserved
The nineteen-ninety-four Olympic games
were held in Norway that specific year;
the thing that I remember, shame of shames...
two women athletes made the news...oh, dear.
Named Tonya Harding, Nancy Kerrigan,
great figure skaters, talented, well-known,
made history when jealousy began,
and Tonya did not want to share the 'throne'.
Ex-husband and accomplice, with baton,
attacked, caused injury to Nancy's knee;
and this was all the news could center on...
'good versus evil' made sport's history.
She healed in time to then participate
in finals, earned the Silver; Tonya lost.
Assailants went to jail; headlines abate.
Black mark on that Olympics was the cost.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Olympics Mania
Sponsor: Janis Thompson
Judged: 09/04/2016
Read more: http://www.infoplease.com/spot/winter-olympics-harding.html
*Image of Original Gerber baby, Ann Turner Cook by KTVU.
R.I.P. Ann Leslie Cook, nee Turner
Ann Cook
Her look
Not name
Became
Households
Footholds
Aspects
Effects
Neighbor's
Favors
Charcoaled
Turned gold
Adored
Reward
Threshold
Behold
Quest and
Destined
Become
A mom
Four kids
Amids
Teacher
Writer
Thank you
Trueblue
My face
By grace
Glass jars
All-stars
Trademarks
Remarks
Sublime
Lifetime
Apprise
Demise
Gerbers
Furthers
Bless you
Adieu
Godsend
Ascend
*R.I.P. Ann Leslie Cook, nee Turner*
At five months old, she posed for their family's neighbor, Dorothy Hope Smith, who drew a charcoal sketch of her for a Gerber's baby-food contest. That charcoaled sketch became Gerber's iconic label when they opened and produced their products in 1928. For nearly ninety-four years of her lifetime, she has been in American homes, as well as, abroad. She died in her St. Petersburg, FL., home, (11/20/1926-06/03/2022) at 95.
2022 June 11
*6th Place*
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 June 12
You were a talented British actor but sadly, not anymore.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned ninety-four.
You starred in an episode of "Fawlty Towers" and "Dalziel and Pascoe".
Forty-four years ago, you starred in "The Adventures Of Picasso".
You starred in an episode of "Last Of The Summer Wine".
You starred in an episode of "Mogul" and "Space: 1999".
You starred in a short lived British sitcom titled "Cuffy".
After living a long life, you died at the age of ninety-three.
When you starred in Fawlty Towers, you beat up John Cleese.
Today would have been your birthday, may you Rest In Peace.
[Dedicated to Bernard Cribbins (1928-2022) who died on July 27, 2022]